As Loud As I Wanna Be
by TheOtterKnight
Summary: "I can hear every blood word you guys are saying. No wonder people hate sleepin' next to you shanks." Newt had only repeated what he had heard from Gally before, of course, but it's another thing entirely to actually not only be woken up by their talking, but to actually hear /what/ they're talking about. {Pre-slash Newtmas in ch1, official in ch2. Minor Thomesa and Galby.}
1. Chapter 1

**A/n:** If I wrote every Newtmas story that I had an idea for, I'd already have ten more. Anyways, thank you all for the reviews. They're all great.

 **Universe:** Unspecified.

 **Pairing:** (Potential) Newt/Thomas, very minor Gally/Alby and Thomas/Teresa

 **Disclaimer:** Roses are red, violets are blue, I don't own, don't bother to sue. This is slash, don't even bash. (:

* * *

There was an unspoken rule in the Glade. Don't talk - too loudly - at night, when others were trying to sleep, especially when most of them had to get up early to start working. As it were, some of the Gladers had to change positions, some alternating to sleeping inside the Homestead while others were placed outside. There was no reasoning for this order, it just happened. Being used to a softer mattress and not the hard ground beneath, Newt wiggles on his back before slipping over onto his side. He could hear quiet whispers to his right, behind his back. The lanky blond moves and pulls a pillow up and over his head, hoping to snuffle out the noise. It proved useless, because he could still hear their chatter, although dully. He sighs loudly through his nose and throws his pillow off, which earns a stunned silence.

 _Thank the Creators,_ he thinks quickly before closing his eyes and hoping to get some more sleep when a noise disturbs him.

"Anyways, what do you think is up with that girl?" Chuck. Newt wants to smack his head against the ground. He just wants to sleep - was that too much to ask for? "It seems weird, she shows up and everything is wacked." The lanky blond scuffs his feet further into the warm recesses of his blankets, wiggling his toes and trying to bring a heavy warmth to his skin.

"Better than everybody going around thinking it's my fault," comes Thomas' murmur, thick with sleepiness. Newt rolls over and cranes his head, seeing the shorter boy scrub at his eyes, as if trying to wipe the grit from it. His eyes are glassy in the darkness with such limited light, with the artificial stars shining dully overhead. His hair looks like strokes of ebony paint on a canvas. Newt can't help but notice that because Thomas hadn't spent as much time in the sun as them, his skin looked like moonlight. _Way to shucking go, thinking of the boy like a beauty magazine,_ Newt rolls his eyes before snuggling further into his blanket, as if it might help him sleep.

"Eh, Gally thinks it's all your fault, anyhow." There's a blissful couple of seconds of silence, which makes the tall boy think that they've finally drifted to sleep, but then Chuck continues, "Not that I can blame him. You and that girl caused a whole klunkload of trouble." Thomas audibly snickers, although it's followed quickly by a yawn. Newt drapes his arm across his face, and instead focuses on the pulse of his own heartbeat, a slow and steady sound that calms him enough to fall into a doze.

"Well, at least you guys can't say nothing interesting hasn't happened, huh?" Chuck laughs at that and Newt considers grabbing his pillow that tumbled somewhere to the right to toss at them, because unlike them, some of them actually had to get up in the morning. As the second in command, he had to oversee what everyone else did before he resumed his own duties. His ankle gives off a phantom pain that causes him to twinge, kicking off some of the blankets in the process but the two loud shucks in the corner don't seem to notice, let alone give it their attention.

"Sure, sure. You sure you don't know her, anyhow? Alby was gettin' on my case about getting you to remember, so he wanted me to remind you before you fell asleep. Does she seem familiar?" Newt sighs into the crook of his arm and resigns himself to his fate - he isn't getting any sleep anytime soon with them yapping away. He rolls over onto his back and wriggles his ankle into a more comfortable position so the pinpricks of needles don't bother him too much. If he has to listen to their conversation while he tries to fall asleep, well, he might as well be comfortable.

Thomas sighs, "No. I mean, kind of. I feel like I knew her from before, somehow, but I .. she's familiar." His ear pricks at that comment - Alby wouldn't likely be pleased that the greenie withheld that piece of information. Not that it was Newt's place to inform him of that - they all had their secrets. _Like what happened to my leg,_ he thinks hollowly, but before his mind spirals back into that dark place, Chuck's dazed comment jars him.

"Hm?"

"I mean, I think I feel this connection with her, like we were close." _Yeah, well, she's a beauty; keep her close, Tommy,_ he thinks and crosses his arms, which felt like a ridiculous thing to do considering that he was laying down. His dark brows furrow and he entertains the thought of yelling at them to slim it, but he hadn't been the type to take the initiative and yell at someone just because he couldn't sleep. Besides, it seemed like everybody else was asleep, so there was no point. Unless they were listening, too...

Chuck snickers, a loud sound that jabs at Newt's nerves but only because he's tired and itching to succumb to sleep, "Oh, yeah? Well, you're lucky, having her as a girlfriend, then."

Thomas making a low choking noise at the back of his throat, "Woah, no, definitely not. I mean, maybe. But probably more like a sister, I think. Besides, I don't even know if I - she's beautiful but not like I'd want to date her or anything, she's not my type."

Chuck yawns, and Newt prays that that means that he's about to ask to go to sleep. Of course that doesn't happen because nothing ever goes right in Newt's life. "Yeah? Then what's your type?" _Nobody needs to bloody know! Nobody cares what his type is._ Newt rolls onto his stomach this time, crossing his arms and placing his head near his fists, which were clenching the empty space of where his pillow was usually located.

"I don't even know, all that's around here are guys, Chuck. Blond, maybe? Understanding? Patient? Someone who can put up with my klunk?" His voice wavered slightly as he listed off characteristics. "Someone who ... who smiles at my jokes, no matter how bad they are, someone who wants to do the best for everyone even if it's not the best for them - selfless, I mean."

"..Sounds like you're describing Newt, Thomas."

Newt's eyes flew open, and his whole body jerks in surprise, his chest stuttering as he breaths unevenly. _What the bloody hell?_ He felt like he couldn't breath, his heart was hammering fiercely against his chest. His fingers dig crescents into his skin and dares to look over at them, dark silhouettes in the night. Chuck and Thomas were pressed together, to preserve heat of course, but enough distance for nobody to assume anything. There was no need for them to practically yell their conversation around the Homestead. It takes him a moment to realize that his face was set aflame, feeling like a heat had crawled under his skin like a disease and had settled there. His stomach fluttered like moths, each wingbeat matching his own heart.

"... Yeah, I know." A heavy breath from the brunette. "I shucking know." Newt finds himself watching the younger boy attentively, waiting for something - _anything -_ that meant that he hadn't meant what he said. That he wasn't into Newt. Because then ... well, what then? Newt lets out a soft groan which becomes muffled by his arms, and he purposefully snuggles his head into the crevices of his arms again. It wasn't his right to eavesdrop in the first place - granted they were about as quiet as a herd of stampeding rhinos - so he had no right to think such ludicrous things about what Thomas was implying, even though it made his heart start a marathon.

"Does Newt know?" _He shucking knows now, slinthead._ He breaths out, trying to calm his heart. It doesn't seem to be effective, because at the greenie's voice his heart patters up again.

"Oh good grie- no. No. I don't - I can't ever tell him. What'd he ever think?" _He'd be bloody well surprised, you shank._ Newt mutters a curse beneath his breath and isn't particularly surprised to feel a warmth seep into his bones, as if his face had decided to make his whole body blush. _What am I, a damsel? Stop blushing, idiot._

"He should know."

"No."

"Okay, well, that's your choice." A pause, "So, _are_ you into Newt?" He absolutely one hundred percent did not need to listen to this, but he definitely wasn't getting any sleep now. He pops his head up over his arms and peer into the darkness, eyes half-lidded as he focuses in on something in the distance. Maybe if he forced his attention on something else, he could overlook the rest of the conversation and be on his merry way to dreamland, hopefully void of the pink-lipped, wind tousled, freckled, gorgeous piece of heaven he had ever seen. .. Not that he had a problem with dreaming about Thomas, of course. He'd just prefer to be without a problem in the morning.

"I don't know," Newt and Thomas breath in unison, deeply, "maybe? It's a strong possibility that I might _like_ him, just a bit."

Chuck doesn't say anything for a while, and Newt doesn't attempt to fool himself into believing that he's fallen asleep. Luck had never been on his side, as evidently proven time and time again. "Good thing that it's not Gally, at least." _Good that,_ Newt thinks with a harsh eye roll. Gally wasn't one for romantic endeavours; besides, it was entirely likely that he was into the leader of the Gladers. Newt scoffs into his skin, brows diving down. _At least he has better control over his shuck mouth when Alby's around._

"Good that." Newt is startled back to their conversation, and he realizes that it's entirely possible that he had dozed just a bit, because then Chuck continues.

"So, you remember her from before?" The toned boy digs his fingers into the soil, drawing patterns of the sun and the sky, thinking of Thomas' confession, which still set his heart hammering. He focuses on the soil slipping beneath his fingernails, where it's already been caked. He tries to make sense of it; why would Thomas like him? Newt, of course, had instincts like most other boys, but that didn't mean he ever felt romantically attracted to someone like Thomas seemed to be claiming. He had a limp, for Creators' sake - who was attracted to someone who had had a physical ability in a world where physical health is all that matters? Where life and death is a constant reminder every day when the Runners pass into the Maze. He rubs at his tired eyes, feeling a burn creep along there.

Newt was a mess up - his hair was too long for this weather, his skin turned an unhealthy rose the first time he arrived before it darkened, his smile was crooked and uncertain, his movements sloppy when he's surprised. He's not even leader material - why would _anyone_ like him?

"Yeah, I think so."

"Hm."

"You should tell Alby," comes a sleepier murmur. Newt finds his own breathing evening out, his eyelids growing heavier even though his thoughts are frantic and almost as fast as he had been when he'd been a Runner. He rolls over onto his side, his arm crushed beneath his weight until he wiggles it out from beneath him.

"Yeah, 'm going to do that," Thomas replies, trying to muffle his own yawn. The other boy tries to stifle an echo of the action.

"Good that," Chuck murmurs before he rolls over and buries his head under his pillow from the sounds of it. Wiggling his toes under his blanket again, he nestled his chin beneath the covers, eyes blinking tiredly. He could hear the pair of boys moving, getting comfortable, their breathing deepening. He opens his eyes, and stares up at the sky for a moment before uncoiling his legs from the position he was in before, a yawn parting his lips. His gaze drops to the ground, looking over towards where the two other Gladers were, and blinks in surprise when he notices Thomas gazing sleepily at him, but he doesn't jolt.

He unfurls one of his hands from beneath the covers and although his embarrassment rips through him, he makes a simple hand gesture of wiggling his fingers in a greeting. Thomas blinks at him slowly before a slow smile crosses his face, his features smoothing out and he almost looks at peace. He gives a slow nod of his head before he closes his eyes partly, looking at Newt through heavily-lidded eyes. It was probable that Thomas would later figure that they had simply woken him, instead of keep him up the whole night, and that it wasn't likely for him to figure that he had heard the whole conversation. No matter, it wasn't like he had felt the same way, right? Well, potentially. Thomas' confession gave room for doubt in his mind, and honestly, the other boy wasn't bad looking, with a gentle smile and mussed hair - he could potentially see himself with him, if what Thomas felt was true.

He notices Thomas fall asleep the next time he opens his eyes, and thinks that maybe, even if nothing ever happened between them, they'd still be as good friends as they were. But he'd definitely tell them to slim it the next time he was out here - he definitely can't have another restless night. With that somber thought, he falls asleep, echoes of the conversation leaving an imprint on his mind. He dreamt of nothing but the possibility of warm touches.

For now, all was well.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n:** I hope you're all proud of yourselves. This was intended to be a oneshot, and yet, here we are. {Just kidding, you're all great. Thank you so much for the favourites and reviews, they mean a lot to me.}

 **Universe:** Unspecified.

 **Pairing(s):** Newt/Thomas

 **Disclaimer:** Roses are red, violets are blue, I don't own, don't bother to sue. This is slash, but don't bash.

 _Brittney:_ Your wish is granted.

 _Anonymoose:_ Yes, yes, I am. (: Your cause of death on your certificate is an overdose of cuteness.

 _Thank each and every one of you for reading this and supporting me with your reviews. You're all amazing._

* * *

His bed looked like a mountain of heaven waiting for him, a mound of blankets and pillows just waiting for him. His leg was aching with ghostly pain, resonating from his ankle, and he swore that he at least sprouted a few extra bruises. As the second in command, he had no set task, especially with his ankle the way it was. He had set himself on track hoeing today, watching Chuck patter around with the rest of the Sloppers, sending Minho, Thomas, Frank, and a few other Runners off into the maze. He was sore and tired and just wanting to collapse into his bed and never move for the rest of the month, or better yet, for another year. He kneels beside his bed, which, unfortunately was still placed outside until the next rotation which would be in a couple days, and begins to peel back his blankets.

Newt snuggles into his blankets, enjoying the feel of the thick wads of cloth pressed against his skin, and he breaths out a sigh of contentment. He curls into a comfortable position and closes his eyes, letting his vision be enveloped by darkness, when an approaching group of Glader voices catch his attention, although not loud enough for him to focus in on them. A few other Gladers were still slipping into their beds, grumbling about the hard ground, which, the second in command didn't care much for at this point of exhaustion, but thankfully they didn't make too much noise.

It grows quieter, with soft voices rippling through some of the awake Gladers, but Newt is truthfully thankful that it isn't louder than it is. He might even get a full night's rest, hopefully.

"Hey, Thomas?"

Newt's eyes shot open. "Bloody hell," he hisses out between his teeth, ignoring a worried and surprised look from a nearby Glader. He kicks off the covers, ignores the twinge from his ankle and props himself up with his hands before pulling himself up. There was no way he'd deal with this again.

"Yeah?"

"Why did you want to-"

"I _swear to the Creators_ that if you _do not_ slim it, I will go over there and smother you both with pillows, or at the very least get in between you two!" Newt snaps, raising his voice just loud enough to be heard. The other talking Gladers immediately fall silent, and look over in surprise to see their usually calm deputy looking red-faced and frustrated. When Chuck does not finish his question, Newt lets out a quiet "thank you" and falls onto his back, reveling in the pleasing sensation that ripples through him. He about ready to fall asleep, right where he is, right now, blankets or not. He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh through his nose. _Finally, peace and quiet._

"So why'd you decide to become a Runner, anyways? I mean, it's all you talk about, and now that you _are_ one.." Newt audibly slaps himself across the face, earning a startled snicker from somewhere to his left.

"No, this is not happening again," he groans, and gets to his feet, gathering his blankets and pillows up in a fell swoop, trying to bundle as much as he could together without any of them dropping, which was possible considering his blankets and pillows weren't too large. Guess the Creators were stingy on that part. He bends over to pick up his shoes, which he had discarded - who sleeps with their shoes on? - and moves over towards where the two greenies slept. They were still talking, their voices loud in volume until Newt's shadow falls over them and they look up with equally startled expressions. "Okay, which one of you am I smothering?" he sighs, raising an eyebrow. Too startled to respond, they gape at him with their mouths open. "That's what I thought. Move over, please." He aims a kick at where he assumes Chuck's shin is, which earns him a yelp meaning that he probably aimed a bit too high, but the boy seems good natured about it and obediently rolls over, dragging his blankets with him.

Newt deposits his own bundle of bliss, and begins to smooth out his blanket across the ground, ignoring Chuck's imploring look and Thomas' curious gaze. He moves his pillow to where he'll place his head and all but flops down, struggling to pull his blankets up when they entangle in his legs. He breaths out a sigh of relief when it becomes apparent that Chuck wasn't willing to talk over the older boy. "Thank the Creators," he breaths out, and rolls onto his side, getting comfortable. He is startled by Thomas, who is watching him with a half-confused half-surprised look on his face. There's a smattering of freckles and moles gracing his skin that are suddenly more defined up close that Newt can't help but think of like constellations, but once he realizes where that train of thought went, he wrinkles his nose and averts his gaze. "What is it, greenie?"

"We weren't that loud, were we?" Thomas asks gently, looking at Newt between his eyelashes because his eyes are half-lidded. Newt makes a soft affirmative noise at the back of his throat. Thomas' expression folds before he flashes an apologetic smile, "Sorry."

"It's okay, hopefully I'll get more sleep than when you slintheads decided to keep me up with your talking a couple days ago," Newt replies easily, moving around so that his head rests on his arm. Thomas says nothing to that, only nods in consideration, mumbling another half-hearted apology and seems to be considering sleeping as well when suddenly his eyes widened.

"Wait, our conversation kept you up?" Newt blinks his eyes sleepily at him in consideration before nodding, not failing to notice Thomas' increasingly traumatized expression. "Did you -" he licks his lips, peering at Newt through squinted eyes before averting his gaze, "- did you hear what we talked about?"

 _"So,_ are _you into Newt?"_

 _"I don't know, maybe? It's a strong possibility that I might_ like _him, just a bit."_

Newt averts his gaze, feeling embarrassment flood through him. "The part about you knowing that girl or how everything is messed up since you arrived?" His words weren't judging; he was merely restating what he heard. He looks back at Thomas, as if hoping for the boy to understand that he doesn't blame him for the strange girl appearing with the strange message.

Thomas stares strongly at Newt's face, as if looking for an explanation. He breaths out slowly, and suddenly Newt is aware of how close they are, how cramped it is between them even though Chuck had moved over. "No, the _other_ thing," he says softly, his expression tense and waiting.

"Oh," Newt says, and stares at a point beyond Thomas' shoulder, into the darkness of the night. "That. Well, yes, I suppose I did." Thomas takes in a shuddering breath and buries his head under his arm, as if he wasn't able to look at Newt under the circumstances.

"Well, that's just - .. I thought we woke you up, not that you heard me, holy klunk." Thomas mutters under his breath, before peeking at Newt from beneath his fingers, looking sheepish. Well. It seems that Thomas remembered that they had locked eyes that night. "Can you - can you just forget that that happened?"

"Something like that is kind of hard to forget, Tommy," Newt mumbles, and instantly the brunette reels back as if scorched. There's an accusatory glint in his eyes, almost pleading and like an cornered animal. Thomas makes a move to pull the blanket up and over his head but Newt snaps his hand out, stopping him. "No, Tommy, wait." An unreadable expression overcomes Thomas' face then, staring at the blond, his eyes impossibly clear and perhaps the nicest brown that Newt had ever seen. He had stilled - it was almost like he wasn't breathing. "I would never want to forget that - nobody wants to forget anything anymore, actually - but I'm not sorry for hearing it," Newt says, voice dropping by octaves rapidly. The conversation had plagued the tall blond for the past day and night, because he had been so startled. The more he thought about it, the more he became aware of Thomas' lingering looks, and maybe noticed a few things that you shouldn't notice about your friend. "I've thought about it alot and I've realized ... Chuck was right. You should have told me." His eyes find Thomas' and they simply look at each other. "In fact, you can tell me right now." His voice lowers further, so that it's a soft whisper between them. Carefully, he reaches his hands out but stops, as if unsure.

Thomas says nothing for a while, but nods slowly, his cheek brushing against his pillow silently. "I like you," Thomas says, voice quiet between them. "I like you _a lot._ Maybe I even love you, and I know it's probably not okay to say that, because of the situation we're in, but .." He stops himself and takes a shuddering breath, as if gathering his strength. "If I've even been sure about something, it's that I would really like to kiss you right now."

"What's stopping you?"

The brunette's face lights up, and he props himself up on his elbow, watching Newt to see if he was serious. Newt copies Thomas' position and raises his eyebrows, heart thundering in his chest, waiting for the younger to prove that he meant what he said. Slowly, as if letting Newt have time to back out, he leans forward. His breath brushes against Newt's face when he gets closer, and the feelings that he felt the past day lit up within him. Newt reaches out and tugs Thomas down, accidentally smashing their noses and even though a blossom of pain welled through his senses, he still attempted to kiss him. Newt is self conscious of the fact that his lips are probably dry and probably bitten down, but still he presses them to Thomas', feeling the boy breathe into his mouth in a pleasantly surprised manner. There was nothing vigorous about it, nothing hungry or demanding, just them and their own pace. He didn't know what he was doing, and was instead following his gut instinct blindly. He makes an appreciative noise when he feels Thomas - _arrogant slinthead_ \- swipe his tongue along his bottom lip. It's nothing short of messy, probably too much spit but the contact is enough for him to feel a rush in his body, feeling elated even when the brunette moves and knocks their noses together, a half-meant apology slipping past his lips.

Newt draws back to take in a breath, because apparently that is still a thing that needs to be done. "I think I like you too," he says, as if it needed to be said at that moment. He just needed to be clear, felt like he had to make Thomas understand that the feeling was mutual.

"Yeah, I think I got that," the brunette smirks, rolling his eyes, before dropping his gaze to his lap, fingers somehow finding their way to the front of Newt's shirt before moving upwards to touch his face, following along the curve of the blond's jawline. "Newt?"

"Hm?"

"When we get out of here, I'll be a proper boyfriend and take you out on lots of dates," Thomas says, his voice quiet as if it were a whisper. His eyes were earnest when he turns to look at the taller boy, who watches him with what he hopes to be an unreadable expression. "I promise you."

Newt offers a smile, feeling as though something was resonating inside of him. Newt grabs Thomas' hand and brings it down between them, stroking his thumb along the back of the shorter boy's hand. "Good that, otherwise you'd be a shucking bad boyfriend," he teases, grin widening. "What, should I expect flowers too?"

"Only if you want them," Thomas says, laughing despite himself and leaning forward to kiss Newt again, softer and gentler than before, if it was possible. It was like a butterfly touch, fleeting and feather light. He couldn't describe the feeling that sang in his heart, the soaring feeling that left him breathless almost as much as Thomas did. He felt like he could trust the younger boy, knowing that if anybody could get them out of the Maze, it was him.

"Wait, are you saying you want to be my boyfriend?" Newt's eyes snap open, not realizing that he had closed them. Thomas had let slip that he intended to make Newt his boyfriend, but assuming and knowing something were two different things.

A flush crept up on Thomas' face, as if he was suddenly embarrassed - or maybe surprised. The part of Newt that was possessive and affectionate crowed, _That's right, I'm the only one who can make my Tommy blush._ "Yes. Don't you dare say no, though," he mumbles, and Newt laughs. Thomas shuts him up by fervently kissing him, his hands shooting up and burrowing into the blond's hair.

"Yes, Tommy, yes," Newt says when he can breath again without inhaling Thomas' pine scent. "I'd love to be your bloody boyfriend." He rests his forehead against Thomas', letting their noses brush and feeling more intimate with him than he had ever felt with anyone. He squeezes their joined hands, and Thomas looks positively pleased. Newt could still feel the ache in his bones from the day, but with the other here, it was like he was rejuvenated, too ecstatic and elated to fall asleep, but knowing he has to. He tugs Thomas down towards him, intending for another kiss, but then the younger boy loses his hold and they end up in a tangle of limbs, awkwardly pressed together, but content in a way that you could only be with your boyfriend. "Well, fancy seeing you here, .. in my bed," Newt attempts at amusement, moving so that Thomas could spread himself out next to him, undeniably close and maybe even cuddling. "What brings you to this part of the woods, greenie?" he teases, and Thomas laughs breathlessly, leaning forward to kiss him.

"I just can't stay away," Thomas jokes, but probably meaning it. Newt throws the blanket over them, slipping his leg between Thomas' and enjoying the warm the other brought. They stared at each other, content in each others' arms, quietly murmuring to each other. Or maybe not quiet enough..

Then, a voice that was unmistakeable Gally's, "Now, it's nice and dandy that you two got together and finally stopped pining, but some of us _are trying to sleep!_ "


End file.
